“And we keep people clean?” Herial asked, he never enjoyed bathing, what did he care if he smelled of dirt? The city was a dirty place. He failed to see how keeping someone clean was a responsibility, seemed more like a punishment to him.
“I suppose we do,” Elheria said, knowing it was far more complicated than that. But children often saw the world simply, so that was that, their responsibility was to keep people clean.
“When I am a man, I shall be a warrior,” Herial said.
“Really?” Elheria asked, keeping her smile, not caring that she had heard this claim a thousand times from her child.
“Oh yes the greatest warrior of the city, I shall fight in battles and defeat my enemies. I shall become so great that I won’t have to bathe!”
Elheria chuckled, her laugh sounding like music to the ear of her son. Children really did have a unique view of the world.
Her smile then faded as a sound plucked at the air, a heavy sound that didn’t seem quite right. Before she had even turned around she could hear screaming, a whole pack of frightened men and women were running down the street towards her. Her gaze only had to ascend slightly to see what they were running away from. When she saw it she too possessed the same mask of terror as she looked upon the dragon that now sat on the outer wall of the city.
It was enormous, blocking out the light of the moon even without its wings spread. Even in the darkness of night its skin, purple and consumed by scale, was clearly seen by all in the city. Two sets of spikes, each large and wider than any sword Elheria had ever seen ran from the top of its head right down to its tail, where a collection of dozens of larger spikes had grown. The spikes glowed white as if brimming with some ancient power within this beast. Its jaw was longer than the height of five tall men combined and filled with thousands and thousands of perfect ivory blades. But it was the creature’s eyes that were the most terrifying, they were twin spheres of malice, globes consumed by an eternal blackness.
The dragon began its search of the city, those black eyes peering down upon the many that ran from its sight. Elheria couldn’t accept this, she knew dragons existed, she had even seen one before. But nothing living was supposed to come from Shillvii, it was a place where all manner of beast went to die. It took the scream of her terrified son to force her to accept the dragon as reality. She wrenched him up, carrying him within her arms tightly as she joined the other townsfolk in running for their lives. She could feel her son trembling in her arms, hating the fact that he was so afraid. It was rare that her embrace wasn’t enough to keep him safe.
Over the shoulder of his mother Herial watched as the dragon descended. Brick and mortar were no match for the weight and strength of the dragon as structures snapped like twigs under its enormous feet. He witnessed as the dragon reached out its long neck, snapping up a poor woman who didn’t run fast enough. He had heard of dragons but had never seen one before, it was more terrifying and hideous than he ever imagined. He watched as another poor soul was plucked from the city, the man’s body cut to bloody ribbons before the dragon devoured him. Herial didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t look away. It was only when after devouring a dozen more townsfolk and the dragon roared that Herial could close his eyes.
It was the sound the dragon made, a sound that sliced through his ears with better precision than any sword. Elheria heard the sound as well and her ears were no better for it either. But she didn’t look back, looking back wouldn’t save her or her child. She had to get home, somewhere behind a wall, somewhere where she wouldn’t have to look into those large black eyes.
“Get to your homes!” a commanding voice said.
The voice was enough to make Herial open his eyes once more, allowing him a chance to see the soldiers that were running towards the dragon, spears, swords and axes in hands. His mother had been right, it was their responsibility to keep the city safe. Elheria was glad to see the soldiers rushing past her as she ran. In spite of how desperate her city had become, she never questioned the bravery of these men and women. She didn’t see any fear in their eyes, only intense concern, that their weapons would not be enough to slay the dragon. She hoped they would prove themselves wrong.
Even with the panic in the streets she was able to move through the crowd at a quick enough pace as her son continued to tremble in fear. She could see her house, in spite of the fact it looked the same as just about any other house in this city, she could always pick it out. She could hear a loud crashing sound in the distance just as she got to her front door. She feared the dragon was on the move. Once inside she slammed the door shut behind her, refusing to let go of her child. She wanted to tell him that it would be alright, she wanted him to stop shaking. But she couldn’t bring herself to say such a thing, it was lie that couldn’t be swallowed.
As she moved through the house, looking for the best place to hide, her son grabbed a rag doll off the shelf, one he held close. She found the best spot at the back of her home, where she normally made her soap. She knew the dragon was looking for food and the meager crumbs of bread and dried fruit she owned were on the other side of the house. She placed herself in the far corner, still clutching and cradling her son tightly in her arms. She knew that the stones that made up her house were no match for the dragon’s strength but there wasn’t anything else she could do.
“Are we going to be safe?” her son couldn’t be blamed for asking, although she hated hearing that question. She still couldn’t bring herself to such a lie and answered truthfully.
“I don’t know Herial,” she said softly and quickly, hoping in doing so it would weaken the impact of her doubt. It didn’t as her son continued to tremble. Not knowing what else to do, she stroked his hair, hoping that her touch would comfort him. It did, but he still trembled.
She found herself looking down at the doll he held so tightly. It had been stitched by her mother, Herial’s grandmother, quite some time ago. There was a part of her that was annoyed by the button eyes of the doll, it was as useful as her soaps would be in defense against the dragon if it came to her house. She silently scorned herself for thinking in such a way. When she was Herial’s age she would often hug a doll of her own, hoping it would keep her safe from whatever monsters lurked in the night.
It wasn’t just any doll either, it was a Mull Man, Mull Men were supposedly rock men of great strength who enjoyed attacking and defeating monsters. It was a story she was often told as a child, it was the reason why she once possessed a Mull Man doll of her own, which was also why her son owned one now. She glanced up, fighting back a tear, realizing that her own mind was trying to convince her the story was true, that somehow the doll really would keep her and her child safe.
As she heard another loud crashing sound in the distance, she imagined the dragon killing and devouring any soldier that dared to stand against it.
“Tell me a story!” Herial pleaded, his head half buried into her chest. She knew it was fear, not rudeness that guided his tone, which weakened greatly when he added, “Please.” She thought about telling him the Mull Man story again, she had told it to him a thousand times before and even with fear consuming her it wouldn’t be a problem reciting it one more time. But she stopped herself, knowing her son would ask why the Mull Men weren’t coming to save them. Because the Mull Men weren’t real, they were stories that made children feel safe of the empty darkness. But tonight the darkness wasn’t empty and no story would keep them safe. She held him tighter but didn’t say anything. She could hear distant screams, both of slaughtered townsfolk and defeated soldiers. The one sound she wanted to hear, cheering, that the dragon had been slain, never came.
“I wish I was brave,” Herial pleaded, Elheria wanted to tell her son, that she too wished to be brave. But she needed to be strong at least compared to her child.
“Like the soldiers,” he added. Elheria knew the soldiers were brave, she only hoped they would be victorious as well.
“But little boys like me are never brave,” Her
ial sobbed.
His words invoked something within her, not another false story, but rather a true memory, one she hadn’t thought about in a very long time.
“That isn’t true,” she said, surprised by the strength in her voice. “I once knew a boy who was very brave.”
“I already know that you know me,” Herial said.
His mother wasn’t sure if he was trying to fight his fear with humor or simply was trying to convince himself that he really was brave, even if he was holding onto his mother tightly.
“A part from you,” she said, she felt a smile try to form, but her own fear wouldn’t allow it. “When I was about your age, I once knew a boy called Arrdum.” She began, speaking slowly and softly. “And he was extremely brave.”
“Did he kill a dragon?” Herial asked, wanting to hear the story, but still horribly aware of the dangers that lurked outside the house.
“No,” Eleria said, the word momentarily stuck in her throat. “He didn’t kill things but he was very brave in another way.”
“How?” her son asked, and she was glad he was slowly accepting the distraction of the story.
“He was brave because no matter what promise he made he always kept it.”
“How is that brave?” Herial asked, his face still half buried in her chest.
Another loud crash could be heard in the distance, the dragon still on its rampage.
“Do you know the old well on the East Side of town, the one that has run dry?”
“Yes.”
“Well there was a story going around that at the bottom of that well there were magical stones. Apparently hidden there by a famous wizard, it was a very popular story back then, the children of the city were fascinated by it. Every one of us wanted to know what these stones looked like and how their magic was performed. But of course no one wanted to enter the well, for it was dark and smelled badly. When Arrdum saw how desperate we all were to know what the stones looked like he made the promise of going to the well and retrieving a single stone.”
“And did he?” her son asked, now clearly interested, although still frightened.
“Oh yes he did, he climbed down into that well and retrieved one of the stones.”
“Was it a magical stone?” Herial asked, keeping his face close to her chest.
“No, the stone wasn’t magical that part was just a story. But it proved just how brave he was.”
“Oh yes he must have been,” the child replied. “That well is dangerous it could collapse at any moment.”
Elheria wanted to smile, word for word her son had repeated the same warning she had given him about that well. The warning her own parents had given her when she was a child. She could hear another pattern of screams and the bellowing echoes of destruction. The dragon was still alive. She did her best to focus back on the memory, it would allow both her and her son to escape reality, if only for a few more moments.
“What other brave acts did he do?” Herial asked, liking the idea of a boy his age being so brave.
“Plenty of others,” his mother began. “But there was one time in particular that showed how brave and honest he was. Do you remember the Night of Songs? The festival that the southern travelers bring to this city every five years?”
“Yes,” Herial replied.
She wasn’t sure if he truly remembered or simply wanted to ensure that he heard the rest of the story. Herial was only three years old when the last Night of Songs had occurred. At such an age memories were not easily formed. But the sounds of screaming and destruction outside were louder now, as if the dragon was getting closer.
Elheria needed the distraction of the memory as much as her son did.
“During the Night of Songs when the fireworks begin there is always a first explosion into the air, now according to the southern travelers the first explosion is only meant to cleanse the air, so the other fireworks can be seen more clearly. We were always told by our parents never to look at the first explosion, otherwise we might’ve gone blind. But many of us just thought that our parents were telling a story, that actually the first explosion was the greatest of the display and the parents just wanted to keep the sight of the explosions amongst themselves.”
“Is that true?” Herial asked. Maybe he did remember his first Night of Songs, after all.
“No, our parents were telling the truth. But at the time none of us believed them. The problem was we were all afraid that we might really go blind if we looked, but not Arrdum. He promised each of us that when the first explosion occurred he would look right at it, without so much as blinking.” She stopped speaking suddenly, there was a large smashing sound that seemed much closer than all the others. She did her best to ignore it as she continued. “He did it, he looked right at the first explosion.”
“Did he go blind?” Herial asked, clearly concerned, clearly caring about Arrdum.
“For a week yes,” his mother replied. “But after the week he could see again, however because of the explosion his eyes had turned a very bright pink.”
“Pink? That isn’t a very brave colour, it wouldn’t look very good,” Herial said, clearly having no fondness for such a colour. He buried his head again when another series of smashing sounds were heard outside.
Elheria heard the sounds as well, but all she could think about was how wrong her son was on both accounts. Arrdum’s pink eyes were mesmerizing, eyes that saw the world completely different to any other human being in the world.
“Pink was a brave colour,” she said, holding her son a little bit tighter. “His pink eyes became a reminder to everyone in the city that if Arrdum made a promise, no matter how dangerous or difficult he would keep it.”
“Is he still in the city?” Herial asked, half-afraid, half-curious.
“No,” Elheria answered and her son easily noticed the sadness in her eyes. “When I was about ten years old he left the city, joining one of the southern armies who was travelling north.”
“You mean like father did? Arrdum went to fight against the northern enemies?”
His words struck her deep, this was one lie that she had always told her child. The boy’s father had left the city, disguising himself as one of many servants of a knight. Of course he had had no intention of fighting in any wars, he just wanted to escape this dreary domain. His desire was so great that he didn’t care that he left his wife and child behind. No, there was nothing brave or selfless about the boy’s father. But that was one truth she wouldn’t share with him until he was old enough to truly bare it. Children didn’t need that kind of hatred in their soul.
She remembered the day Arrdum had left as well, it was the day she saw her first dragon. An enormous orange beast that flew so close to the city that the flap of its wings was like hurricane wind, causing many structures to be destroyed and much to become lost. It seemed that even one as brave as Arrdum couldn’t stand the idea of living somewhere where dragons were about and so he left the city. In that moment she found herself missing him greatly, she always felt safe when Arrdum was around. He had a way about him that even as a child was respected by just about everyone in the city.
“Yes that’s right,” she said somberly. “Just like your father he went to fight in the north,” she said not liking how the lie tasted in her mouth. In truth she had no idea where Arrdum went, only that it was somewhere far away.
“Wow he really was brave,” Herial said.
Before his mother could reply another horrid roar filled the air. She gasped, knowing that the roar sounded very close, like the dragon was just at the end of the street. She listened in silence hoping that it was her fear that made the sound so loud, that the dragon was actually on the other side of the city. She didn’t know what to make of the silence that filled the air, a terribly heavy and intense loss of sound. The silence felt like it lasted a year.
When the era of silence came to an end her fear multiplied. Her eyes accepted it a second or so before her ears did. The massive claws of the dragon rip
ped through the front of her house, proving that indeed stone bricks were no protection against its wrath. She heard herself gasping, knowing that she was too afraid to even scream. She could see the dragon now, it was standing as tall as a mountain before her half destroyed house. There was no false hope now, the dragon was staring right at the mother and her son. She didn’t bother to wish that the dragon’s stomach was full. She glanced at its eyes, she had never seen eyes so dark before. As it opened its mouth slightly, she felt as if it was smiling. But the dragon would bring her no joy. She did the only thing that she could, she turned away from the dragon using her own body as a last line of defense to protect her son. Her only hope now was that she would suffer the pain of the dragon’s bite, that if her son were to die than it would be a painless death. She closed her eyes and held her son close, wishing that she had taken her chances with the southern armies, her and her son would still have been in danger, travelling the roads, but the dangers of the road would’ve been worth it to escape this city.
Herial had never been held so tightly by his mother before, he was surprised by how strong she truly was. The taste of her dress filled his mouth as from over her shoulder he watched the dragon. He wanted to close his eyes, he knew what was about to happen. But they remained opened, a part of him had to see the dragon’s mouth open wide, its teeth like a legion of swords.
The Dragon began its descent, seemingly planning on taking the mother and child together. Long before the descent could be finished Herial saw a figure leaping from the corner of his vision. The figure with a strong hand leveled a long handled hammer into the dragon’s snout. The blow didn’t just cause the dragon to fall, it caused it to be hurled through the air, its massive frame crashing through a series of houses before striking the inner wall of the city. The blow itself didn’t mesmerize the child, nor did the dozen or so other weapons upon the figure’s back. It was the figure’s eyes that grasped his attention, pink and powerful eyes that shone in the blackness of night.
9 Tales From Elsewhere 6 Page 7
